Time To Think
by estibob
Summary: Blaine finds himself with too much time on his hands whilst visiting Kurt in hospital. He can't help but feel guilty about the event that put the love of his life into a unresponsive state!


**Time to Think – Chapter 1**

**Hey all! so this is my first attempt EVER at writing anything that isn't a song, so do please bear with me! I have been told to make you all go onto my friends pages because, well let's face it... THEY ROCK! So go and visit BackwardsMuffin and klainbowsmuffinlessthanthree :0 Enjoy! you are all Totally Awesome! x**

That face, just how it always was. Even in the deepest of sleeps, it seemed animated with its usual charm and happiness. His skin was still as pale as snow, glowing as if it had been no time at all since it had first made contact with the crisp winter air. He looked so peaceful, just lying there like that. The boy could not help reach out silently to hold his sleeping friend's hand in his own, to feel his soft, oh so familiar flesh against his once more.

Blaine moved to the end of the hospital bed, picked up a folder and quietly scanned over Kurt's charts. There had been no change in his readings for the last few days; his vitals were stable, but he was in an unresponsive state. Unresponsive. Blaine wondered exactly what that meant. Did it mean that Kurt couldn't hear anything of what Blaine and the doctors had been discussing, that he could not smell his boyfriend's new aftershave, the one that he loved so much? Blaine found these thoughts hard to contemplate. The only thing that made him feel better was imaging the look on Kurt's face if he saw what he was wearing. He had spent enough time picking out clothes with Kurt to know that the pale blue hospital gown would flush out his porcelain skin with ease.

Just then a young nurse, who was doing her rounds, knocked gently on the door, drawing him out of his day-dream. Blaine offered her a nod as she came in carrying a steaming mug of tea. Handing the drink to him, she gave him a sympathetic look that he had received on countless occasions in the last few weeks. The girl's shining eyes bore into his for a moment, then she turned and left Blaine standing at the foot of his boyfriend's bed.

Gripping the hot mug in his slightly chilly hands, he moved over to the rather uncomfortable looking visitors chair next to the bed; Blaine had been trying to put off sitting in this, but he had been wandering around the room for a while now, and thought that he may feel a bit calmer if he rested his legs and stopped pacing. He had always felt a little silly wearing his smartly ironed shirts and blazer uniform outside of the Dalton Academy, but recently he had been going straight to the hospital after classes to visit Kurt, and had learned to ignore the occasional looks from passers-by.

Kurt had been in the hospital for just over three weeks. In that time, Blaine had managed to get to know a few of the regular staff members on the 'Herman Ward for Young People'. Every weekday at around five O'clock, he would tap in the lock-code on the door that was given to him by one of the maintenance guys after his first week of visiting, and walk shyly down to the very last room on the ward. He passed by about ten other rooms; some communal and others single ones like Kurt's. There were about 40 other kids in their beds surrounded by ridiculous quantities of flowers and cards; some had their families and friends with them, but others sat alone in their hospital gowns and fuzzy bed-socks reading or listening to the latest chart albums on their iPods.

Blaine knew that what had happened to Kurt wasn't his fault, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that if he had tried harder, he could have prevented that perfect night's painful outcome. But how could he really! He had no control over people's desperate actions, especially those people who decide to blow up a few dozen people! Well, his fault or not, Blaine couldn't help but worry about his boyfriend. He had tried to spend every available moment visiting him, replenishing the glass vase of Lilies on his bed-side table, telling him about the Warblers latest song choices and new recruits, and updating his sedated body with all of the news from Dalton and from his friends at McKinley.

With a sigh he sunk back into the chair and crossed his legs, trying to massage the tiredness out of his eyes. Blaine had hardly slept since the accident and he was too scared to shut his eyes. He knew that as soon as he was alone with his imagination that the memories of that night would haunt his fleeting dreams, bringing all of those screams back to life. All of those bloody faces…

'_Beeep…'_

The blazing lights in the air, swirling round and round…

'_Beeep…'_

The shouts and cries as people tried to clamber through the rubble to their loved ones…

'_Beeep…'_

The thick, dusty smoke in the air tearing his lungs apart with every desperate breath…

'_…'_

Suddenly Blaine was brought back into the real world with a jolt. He jumped up and shot a terrified glance at Kurt's monitor and froze, horrified. He had flat lined and was crashing. He knew he should shout for help, call a nurse or something, but his feet suddenly weighed a tonne and his throat had dried up. He didn't notice the nurses hurriedly move him aside as a team of doctors rushed in with a crash-kart. All he could process was Kurt's face, still calm as if nothing was happening, a striking contrast against the mayhem of the room around him…..


End file.
